


Life of the Party

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Knight Rider (1982)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-24
Updated: 2005-10-24
Packaged: 2018-01-25 03:30:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1629176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He knew what he was  a computer in a car.  He had no illusions about that, or desires to be anything else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life of the Party

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Marien

 

 

Disclaimer: Glen A. Larson and Universal own Knight Rider. I own nothing but the silly ideas that run around in my head.

Thank you to Tomy for the beta read!

**Life of the Party**

"Michael, your bowtie is crooked," Kitt admonished as he pulled the car deftly into the valet line behind a BMW.

Michael grunted and tugged at it impatiently. "Quit rubbing it in," he shot back.

"Rubbing what in?"

"That you don't have to go." Michael hitched his shoulders and tugged at his sleeves in a caricature of discomfort.

"Michael, I would think you'd enjoy going to a party," Kitt clucked.

"It's a _fundraiser_ , not a party." His voice was dripping with a distain that Kitt didn't entirely understand.

"There's fine food, music, and wine. People spend the evening eating, dancing, and imbibing. Isn't that how you'd define a party?"

"That's one definition, yes. But it's not my kind of shindig, okay pal." Michael opened the door and slid out, tugging at the ends of his tux coat and glancing around. "Find yourself a spot, okay?"

"Have fun."

"Quit rubbing it in," he muttered as he sauntered over to Devon's limo, which had just pulled into the drive.

Kitt watched as Devon and Bonnie got out and greeted Michael. They all looked quite nice, dressed in their finest. The limo pulled away and Bonnie shot Kitt a quick wave. Then together they disappeared into the hotel's elaborate lobby.

Kitt put the car in gear and backed into a spot out of the way of the scurrying valets. A bland young man eyed him suspiciously, but there was a steady stream of cars into the circular drive in front of the hotel so he was too busy to question anything.

They had just finished up their current case so Kitt didn't have any research or evidence processing tasks to keep him busy. It was going to make for a long night waiting in the parking lot. At least when they had a case, Kitt usually had something productive to do. But there was nothing to be done about it so he put on a little Vivaldi and watched the valets work.

Normally Kitt didn't mind being left in the parking lot. There was nothing unusual about it. He knew what he was - a computer in a car. He had no illusions about that, or desires to be anything else. He was happy to be unique and special. He was proud to be Michael's partner -- to be able to protect him in ways no human could. But sometimes . . .

Well, sometimes he wished he could go to the parties.

Maybe it was just Michael's complaining that had gotten to him - not that it was unusual for Michael to protest mandatory attendance at a fundraiser. In fact, if complaining were an Olympic sport his partner would certainly be a metal contender. But tonight Kitt found himself feeling restless. Maybe it was just boredom, but Kitt couldn't help scanning the hotel wistfully.

It might not be Michael's kind of party, but he had a feeling it would be his. He was a fan of black and he'd always thought that tuxedos looked particularly distinguished. Assuming that he had some sort of human form, he expected that he'd like attending a black tie event. There were certain things he wasn't sure if he'd enjoy. Nothing in his experience seemed at all analogous to eating - having his oil changed or filing up with fuel served the same function as nourishment, but it didn't seem to have the same intrinsically pleasurable quality that food seemed to have for humans. So he wasn't sure about eating. But he would like to mingle. He'd like to talk to the Foundation's more learned supporters. He could see himself debating the issues of the day, trading opinions and theories. He expected that it would all be quite stimulating. Like the salons of old, it appealed to him completely.

A valet pulled the BMW into the spot next to Kitt and hurried away without a second glance. What to do when you had hours of time and little way to pass it? Again, it wasn't exactly unusual for him, but for some reason he was lonely tonight. He was half tempted to give Michael's comlink a buzz. Michael certainly wouldn't mind an excuse to get out of the fundraiser, but Devon would undoubtedly be angry. Kitt didn't need to use up any of Michael's limited good will - he was too often in trouble as it was. No, it was best to simply keep himself entertained.

He calculated the best possible arrangement for all the cars in the parking lot. If one of the valets wandered by again, he'd share his wisdom. With all the running around they were doing, they would probably appreciate a little efficiency.

But who was he kidding. Most people didn't get past the fact that he was a talking car.

Kitt turned back to scanning the fundraiser. The band had begun playing and people were milling with drinks in their hands. Several couples had wandered out onto the dance floor. As he watched through the portal of his sensors, Devon extended his hand to Bonnie and the two of them joined the other swaying pairs. Kitt wondered what it as like to dance. He was pretty sure that he'd like to try it. Waltzes were lovely and traditional. Classic. He kept time perfectly - his oscillators saw to that. And he had what he felt was a deep appreciation of music. He expected he'd be quite a good dancer. If only he had the body for it.

Kitt sighed. This sort of wistfulness was so unlike him. Perhaps he should have Bonnie go over his systems to see if there was anything wrong. It wasn't that he didn't like who and what he was. He just got tired of living vicariously sometimes. There weren't all that many human activities that were car friendly. His family went out of their way to accommodate him - especially Michael - but there were always going to be times when he was left out in the parking lot.

Vivaldi came to an end and he decided that perhaps Holst would be more to his fancy tonight. It was going to be a long evening and he really needed to find something to do other than brood.

After all, he was happy to be one of a kind, happy to be unique.

Sometimes he just wished he didn't spend so much time on the outside of the party looking in.

 

 

 


End file.
